Recovery
by SocialMoth
Summary: "Only fear ever did this to her, and it took a lot to make Gretel afraid. And Hansel would be a damn fool to think his sister had not been through a lot in the past two days. They were in for a long night." [TW for eating disorders, referenced attempted rape.] COMPLETE.


**July 2013**

**According to imbd, Gretel was originally intended to have an eating disorder due to the Gingerbread Witch. Le my take.**

**This is one of those things Creative Self insists I write instead of getting some much-needed sleep (or rather _because_ I can't get much-needed sleep otherwise).**

**I should note this assumes you've seen the uncut version of the movie, but you'd get the gist anyway if you watched the theatrical version and didn't write off Gretel's disappearing jacket as merely a continuity error...**

**Also I demand Hansel and Gretel in a hurt/comfort fic that does _not_ resolve into incestuous sex. Good Lord, fandom; let more than two kinds of relationship exist, please.**

**This should go without saying, but seriously: TRIGGER WARNING for eating disorders. Please use your best judgment if you're recovering. *hugs***

* * *

"Not too hot, not too cold, but just right," Ben announced with forced lightness, setting the bowl of porridge on the table. Gretel looked at it, picked it up, and realized it could never get past the lump in her throat. But she knew that she needed to eat. She gripped the spoon hard to keep her hand from shaking, and stirred up a little mouthful. Maybe once she got the first taste down, things would be easy. The more she thought about it, though, the larger that lump became, until she realized she might actually get sick. She distracted herself with Ben's scrapbook, flipping the pages while she held the bowl in her other hand until...

And then it didn't matter that she'd barely touched her porridge and her stomach curled around its own emptiness, and no one could have questioned how badly she needed her brother in her sights again before she could even _think _of eating again. Ben never did, and for that she felt so much relief.

But it did nothing to alleviate her _fear_.

–

That evening found the group, without Edward who remained outside the city limits, seated in the corner of the tavern. Ben's damaged arm hung in a sling, bandages firmly wrapped over his shoulder. He'd squirmed while Gretel pulled the bullet out, but he hadn't fainted nor had his spirits dampened at all – if anything, he accepted his wound as a necessary risk of the job. Hansel couldn't help but admire that. Whether the kid would feel the same about joining with them in the morning was another issue, but dealing with that one could certainly wait. For now, Augsburg was safe, and all three of them needed to rest.

Ben dug single-mindedly into the schweinshaxe set before him, but Hansel proceeded slowly through his food – his eyes kept wandering to his sister.

Something was _wrong._

Gretel kept stirring her stew around long after the steam stopped rising from the bowl. The frown that managed to set in her brow the more she gazed dispassionately at her untouched food, the tautness of her lips and the way her jaw clenched when she finally lifted a spoonful out of the bowl; she set it back down again and leaned away from the table.

Hansel reached under the table for her free hand in her lap, giving it a gentle squeeze when she started and looked up at him, her eyes alarmingly distant.

"It's okay," he murmured so Ben couldn't hear, "Just eat as much as you can. You don't have to eat the whole thing."

Seeming emboldened, Gretel refocused and managed to get down half of her meal before stopping with a grimace, pushing the bowl away a little too fast. Quickly excusing herself, she left the table without her usual grace, her hip even catching the corner of the leaf in her hurry and jarring the flatware. She winced, said nothing, avoided Hansel's eye as she weaved through the crowd to the stairs, toward their room. Ben gazed between the stairwell and the half-eaten stew in the middle of the table for a moment. Hansel did not move, watching, his face schooled into blankness. After a hesitant shrug, Ben reached across for the bowl, eagerly digging in to chase down his devoured pork.

Hansel quietly released a breath, instructed Ben to mind his liquor, and followed his sister's footsteps to their rented room.

–

The door opened so quietly on its hinges that Hansel actually took Gretel by surprise – he was able to see her silhouette lurching over the moonlit room's chamber pot for an instant before she straightened; it was too late to recover her composure, now. The sour reek of vomit drifted over to him and Gretel could only look away for shame when his nose crinkled involuntarily in disgust.

"Sis," he said when the initial shock died away to concern, "you alright?" Clearly she was not; but she would not accept help without asking for it first.

"I'm okay," she rasped, wiping her mouth. Hansel did not move from the doorway, brow furrowed. Gretel valiantly held his stare, for a while. Then she doubled over again and dry-heaved. There was nothing left to bring up, she had eaten so little over the past couple of days. But Hansel knew the nausea could last for hours, now.

"It's been a long time since you last got sick." Hansel led himself into the room by these words, shutting the door behind him. Gretel nodded, using the wall to push herself back up and leaning heavily against it. "Do you think you're okay, now?" She nodded again, face flushed and sweat shining in the silver light of the moon, her hair disheveled. Hansel gingerly picked up the chamber pot to empty it out the window. Gretel followed him like a new duckling on unsteady feet; when he'd placed the pot back down, he turned and guided her onto the bed. She put up no resistance. They both knew how this worked. Gretel gazed balefully up at him, looking even paler in the moonlight washing over them. The raw scabs on her face stood black against her white skin, and quiet rage burned in him.

Hansel laid his thumb across the deep cut on her forehead. "Are you going to tell me how you got these, now?"

Gretel's shoulders tensed; but she bowed her head to indicate that she would. Hansel knelt so she wouldn't have to look up, she could be upset and not have to face him with tears in her eyes but he could still see. He laid an arm across his knee, close and accessible if she needed a hand to hold. They'd done things this way before.

Only fear ever did this to her, and it took a _lot _to make Gretel afraid. And Hansel would be a damn fool to think his sister had not been through a lot in the past two days. They were in for a long night.

"The sheriff," she said quietly, worrying her split lip. Hansel tensed. "Him and his goons. I was looking for you, and they found me first." Shudders wracked her next breath and she rubbed her palms together; she did not want to see her brother's face. "If Edward hadn't saved me when he did..." Hansel's eyes sharpened, moonlight glinting in them like a blade; the shift cut into her chest. She knew it was all on her face – her eyes wide and pleading as a deer's as the memories rushed before her.

"Gretel," Hansel grated, taking her hand. Weaving their fingers together helped slow her heartbeat.

"Berringer... wanted to _break _me. Like a _horse_." A derisive sniff, but her brother's grip on her hand tightened painfully. She could barely look at him, at the anger blazing in his eyes. How dare _anyone_...

A rough thumb traced under her eye and Gretel realized she had started crying. Screwing up her face against it, she rubbed at her eyes until she saw sparks. "I'm okay," she insisted even as tears tumbled one after the other down her face, "I'm okay. They're all dead. They can't hurt anyone." _Can't hurt _**_me_**_ anymore_. Her brother said nothing; just kept his eyes on her, that stoney expression reserved for moments he had no instincts what to do – such as now. The silence hung heavy between them. A dropped pin could have shook them. "It's okay, now. Nothing happened."

And Hansel straightened from his crouch on the floor, righteous fury driving him to _any _act of vengeance since Edward had killed the actual villains – but her gaze followed him up and there were still tears blurring her vision; her hands gripped his near arm tightly. Her lips formed his name without a sound. It hung between them in the moonlight; for a moment, neither moved. Then Hansel leaned back down and she rose to meet him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into his chest. Holding her tight against him, he lowered them both to the floor and her muffled sobs were the only noise.

When Gretel wouldn't talk about it back in their childhood home... only his relief that he'd even found her again had kept Hansel from outright demanding she tell him why her face was cut up.

If Gretel had been able to eat and keep her food down, tonight, he might not have asked again.

"I was so _scared_," Gretel admitted, her whisper nearly lost in the thick fabric of his vest. He pulled her even closer, carding fingers through her hair, shushing her gently.

"I know, I know. I am so sorry I wasn't there. I should have been there. Gretel, I'm so sorry." A small hiccup and he pressed a kiss to her hair. "It's okay, now. You're safe." They remained on the floor long after Gretel's sobbing died away. Hansel just continued to rock her gently from side to side, like since they were kids and he didn't know how else to help his little sister whenever every kind of food made her sick. It went on long enough that Hansel actually thought Gretel had fallen asleep, but then she suddenly withdrew, eyes red-rimmed but present. The expression on her face was nowhere near bright or optimistic, but it was calmer and more relaxed – her brow perfectly smooth as always. Hansel leaned forward. "Everything alright?"

She fingered the collar of his jacket distractedly. The frown dared to come back for the smallest instant, but just as quickly it vanished again. Hansel felt it would be a useless exercise to chase it down; he let it be. At length she nodded, dark eyes fixing on him tightly, and in them he saw more of the Gretel he'd grown up fighting alongside: made of steel and daring anyone to deny it. "Yeah. I'm good." She nodded again, looking more certain this time. Hansel imperceptibly relaxed.

"Are you hungry at all? Want me to get you something to eat? I'm afraid Ben's gobbled up the rest of your stew, by now."

Letting out breathy laughter, Gretel shook her head. "I can wait until tomorrow," she said. "I'm fine," she insisted when her brother's expression hardened. "I've gotten by on less."

But during those times she had been too weak to hold her own in a fight; a liability, prone to fainting. If Hansel could make her promise that she would indeed eat in the morning, he would have felt a lot better. But making her promise never worked, and Gretel knew he didn't believe she actually would eat. She would do her best, though. She would try. For her brother, she would try.

At a loss, Hansel kissed her forehead again before standing, pulling her up with him. "Okay," he relented. "But at least help me keep the kid out of the beer; he's already gotten shot once, tonight." That got the humored smile he wanted, and on surer legs Gretel led the way out of the room, Hansel not far behind.

They would get through this together, the same way they did everything.

* * *

**Yes, I did go and stealth-reference "Found" at the beginning. /shameless plug**

**Afterthought: I'm not sure if I gave Gretel a specific eating disorder; my logic ran along the lines of "she saw how sick Hansel got eating the witch's candy, so she developed an aversion to eating at all / having any food in her from fear of the same happening to her." I don't know if I'd necessarily call it anorexia or bulimia, though... I'm not up on the current DSM for the different recognized eating disorders, though, so I could be wrong. **

**Obligatory PSA: If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, there are resources available. Talk to someone, educate yourself, get whatever help you need. I encourage you to recognize that, although you're in for a bumpy road, you _can_ get better. You _will _get better. Don't lose sight of recovery, and don't let relapses derail your journey towards it. It's worth it. Believe me.**

**Cos I love you guys. And I wouldn't lie to you. And even if I didn't love you guys, I still wouldn't lie to you.**

**Take care.**


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